Heroes
by Queen.Niki
Summary: With the death of Dumbledore, the Order has disbanded. Hermione, furious with their cowardice, decides to take matters into her own hands. SSHG eventually. Full summary inside!
1. Live and Let Be

This is my first Fan Fic, but I'm not gonna ask for any special leniancy because of that from you lot.

Full Sumary: With the death of Dumbledore, the Order has disbanded. Hermione, furious with their cowardice, decides to take matter into her own hands.

Warnings: Independant Bad Girl Hermione; Independant Slightly Dark Harry; Meddling Dumbledore.

Hehe, I'm not giving anything else away!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my plot, any OCs and my settings. Thanks goes to JKR for all the stuff I borrowed!

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**Heroes**

Chapter One: Live and Let Be

To most eyes, no. 7 Primrose Close, Kent was an ordinary house, in a very ordinary neighbourhood. The family who lived there were a normal upper middleclass family; a couple, Ryan Granger and Jane Granger and their nineteen (due to Time-Turner use) year old daughter, Hermione Granger, who just happened to be a witch…

And, like most teenagers on a Saturday morning, Hermione was about to be was about to be woken from a drunken stupor.

'Hermione…time to wake up kitten: it's ten o'clock,' Hermione Granger, best (female) friend of the Boy Who Lived awoke to find her pretty, bushy haired mother, Jane, leaning over her and shaking her arm.

'…Five more minutes, mum…' Hermione's eyes tried to close; the warmth of the soft, plush feather mattress, the warm comforter. So alluring, until a blast of cold air swept her body!

She opened her eyes, instantly awake: not only had her mother removed her covers, but she had opened the two French windows, drawn the curtains and retreated. _Coward!_

Bright, white sunlight filtered in.

Hermione moaned, and covered her eyes.

Hermione's father yelled something about breakfast being ready from downstairs.

Hermione groaned, remembering her excursion with a bottle of Firewhisky the night before, and collapsed back onto the bed. _Not again, Granger, you will not do this again._

She felt sick…

Her head hurt…

The light hurt her eyes…

She just wanted to go back to sleep…

'HERMIONE!' Why did everyone have to shout?

From the door, 'Herms, kitten, come on. I'll go get you some Paracetamol for your head, love.' All anger at mum vanished. _Mum, darling mum, never asks questions._

'Don' bother, mum. Got a Hangover Potion in my trunk,' weakly, she pulled herself up off her mattress and staggered over to her trunk. Before she had left the Wizarding World a month ago after Dumbledore's untimely and disheartening demise she had acquired a stack of useful Potions and Potions ingredients from the apothecary in Hogsmead. Among these had been ten Hangover Remedies, and this was the last one.

Opening the cap, she pinched her nose, tilted and drank.

It was foul.

But the relief was near instant, and it was well worth the bitter aftertaste.

Feeling a little stronger, she slid on yesterday's denim cutoffs, and a baggy dark green T-shirt with "BAD GIRL" emblazoned on the front in curly gold letters. A brush through her bushy hair – not that it did any good – and her worn out trainers finished her look. _No _Makeup needed.

Her mum called from downstairs again, 'Herms, what do you want for breakfast?'

'Not hungry, mum,' Hermione sat down at the little desk she had had since Primary School and pulled out her wand. She was – officially! - seventeen now, and could use it whenever she liked, but she still wasn't used to it.

Hermione's mind was occupied with other things...

'Stupid idiots,' Hermione muttered contemptuously, looking at a picture she had unearthed of her, Harry and Ron, from their fourth year.

Her anger at Ron stemmed from the fact that he had run with his family, as the Order put into motion their latest brainwave, something which Hermione liked to call "Argh, run! Dumbledore's dead and we're now helpless, so let's move as far away from England as we can and disband." _Such Gryffindor Bravery!_ But the final straw for the Order, what had _really_ made them run was Harry's disappearance.

Well, this was something that Hermione wasn't going to endure. She hoped that Harry was off finding the Horcruxes. And if anyone asked, yes, she was sure that Harry hadn't been captured, or killed by the Death Eaters. There would have been gloating and Dark Marks abound if he had.

In some ways, Hermione had decided, it would have been easier if he had been captured, because them there would have been a certain outcome, not this silly limbo which stressed her out and made her hair extra frizzy. But then, if he had been captured, she would probably be dead by now anyway. Dead. No worries. A proper Hakuna Matata!

But she had learnt something in her third year: nothing was ever normal when you were friends with Harry Potter.

Then a wave of Gryffindor bravery, recklessness and what-have-you came upon her, and she grabbed her old backpack from the hook on her door and holding her wand over it, said: 'Pack!'

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AN: Feel free to review. Flames, praise, whatev. But constructive critisism is my fave since I'm new. :D 

Niki


	2. I'm On My Way

AN: OK, here's the next installment. Much longer.

Just to classify a few things...

**Disclaimer**: I own only the OCs, my plot (and it's bunny, or should that be the bunny's plot?) and any settings you don't recognise.

**Pairing**: SSGH Eventually. It is Hermione Centric for the first few chaps, and explores...well, I'm not going to tell you that. evil grin

**Warnings (for now)**: Strong language and Srcastic Independant Hermione.

This will be a Hermione Spy story, and all the characters will stay very much themselves, though our will be rather more...well, she'll be madder, badder and more dangerous to know than book Hermione.

_This chapter contains strong language..._

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_Then, quite suddenly, a wave of Gryffindor bravery, recklessness and what-have-you came upon her, and she grabbed her old backpack from the hook on her door. Holding her wand over it, she cried: 'Pack!' _

Twenty minutes, a carefully spun lie and many tearful goodbyes later Hermione was in the Knight Bus on her way to Hogwarts.

Apart from the fact that she had no idea what had possessed her - what still possessed – she could see that it was the logical thing to do. After all, the Order wasn't going to work to clean up the hole the Wizarding World was becoming, so she was!

Not that she wouldn't have helped if they _were_ going to defeat old Moldy-shorts, but recently all her thoughts orbited around one thing: continuing what the Order refused to: she was going to work for the greater good if they weren't. She had to do this, she justified, because no one else would. _And you told Harry off for playing the Hero, Hermione!_

Hogwarts was the only possible first step in her self-appointed quest. Dumbledore must have left something, _anything_, to provide in the event of his death!

_But maybe he didn't think he was going to die, _Hermione reasoned, _maybe he was completely unprepared for such an event._

No, she was being silly. It was war. People died in war. Dumbledore would have prepared for the possibility of his death. He had to have been.

'Hogsmead and Hogwarts, next stop.' The conductor boomed.

Seconds later, the bus jerked to a halt outside Hogsmead train station and Hermione stepped out into the hot summer's day.

Trekking up to Hogwarts she realised that maybe shorts and sandals would have been a better idea because here in Scotland where it should have been cooler it was hotter. A wet, humid hotter that left her soaked in sweat and panting as she clambered over the incline and up the steps to the Entrance Hall.

The doors were unlocked. She used a spell to push the doors open and then entered.

Walking along her determined footsteps echoed ominously off the stone walls as she made for Dumbledore's Office.

Each step she took, her sense of unease increased. Something revolutionary would be in that office.

She stopped in front of the Gargoyle, and began to run through all the candies she knew. '…Lemon Drops…Licorice Wands…Chocolate Frogs…Acid Pops…OH DAMNATION!'

The Gargoyle opened. Hermione could have jumped for joy, in spite of the strange password. She was up the stairs in a flash, trailing, she was sure, yards of BO and bushy hair.

The Office was exactly as she remembered it, save the fact that there was a portrait of Dumbledore on the wall with the others, and there were no papers on his desk, no Fawks on his perch. In was rather sad.

But never one to be deterred, she marched over to the desk and tried to open the top drawer. It was locked. '**_Alohomora_****!'** The drawer remained shut, and very firmly so.

Maybe something stronger maybe. '_Effringo_! -' nothing! '-_Cogo Patefacio_!' Once again, nothing. _Grrrrrrr! _

'Maybe a password would help,' said an old voice from the wall. Hermione looked up at Dumbledore's Portrait. His eyes were . 'Lemon Drop, Miss Granger?'

'Thanks, sir,' Hermione turned back to the desk, not knowing why she hadn't tried a password before. '_Lemon Drop_.' _Soooo obvious!_ The drawer sprung open. Hermione rummaged.

'Miss Granger? Hermione?' said the Portrait. She looked up. 'If you want to find something in particular, you could look through all of my _many_ drawers in your search, or you could simplify it by asking me.'

Hermione looked up again, 'Do you have any information on the Horcruxes that Harry doesn't already have? Or anything at all that could help? The Order…'

'Yes, my dear, I am aware of the Order's despair and consequent disbandment.' Dumbledore gazed at her sadly, gone. 'Harry can take care of the Horcruxes. In fact, he has already been and retrieved any information I had about them, but I have another, more delicate and secret job for you. Remove the big red book from the shelf across from me, if you please.' _This is more like it!_

Obediently, Hermione walked across the room, and removed the book: a section of shelf slid back, revealing a small room. 'OH!' She looked up at Dumbledore who was once again . 'Shall I go in, sir?'

'Yes, please do. I shall relocate to the picture frame within,' Sure enough, he was there when she entered. 'What is this place?'

'My equipment room,' Dumbledore answered, 'though it is also a safe of sorts. Please say "Secretum" and the cupboard in front of you will open.'

'Secretum!' The cupboard directly in front of Hermione opened. It contained the Pensieve.

'Remove the Pensieve, please.' She took it down from the high shelf. It was heavy. Solid. Felt strangely giving in her hands. _Weird! _

She set it against the table, not knowing that her entire understanding of the events leading up to that moment was about to be changed. 'Say "Ice Mice" and open the drawer in front of you.'

'Ice Mice!' Hermione wandered what she was going to be shown. The drawer shot out; it contained a small chest. 'To open this, Miss Granger, requires a drop of my blood. It can be found in my private chambers, behind my office, in the bathroom cabinet disguised as a headache potion.'

Hermione stood up and walked out. The suspense was killing her! And why did all this have to be so complicated, anyway? _Security's a bitch! _

Still, this was really annoying.

She located the door to Dumbledore's private quarters, which were, surprise, surprise, purple and starry. The bathroom was off to the left, and the single vial of headache potion was in plain view among the other standard Potions once she opened the cabinet doors.

She grabbed it, and bolted back into the 'equipment room'.

Dumbledore smiled benignly as she tipped one drop into the little hole on the lid and waited. The box glowed blue for a split second, and then the lid sprang open. Inside were row upon row of tiny vials, each containing a silver strand of memory. She gaped. Dumbledore's Memory Collection. All numbered and titled, even colour coded. Hermione very much approved of the orderly way in which they were stored.

'I think you will find, Hermione, that numbers six and ten are relevant to the current issue. Take out the unmarked sapphire vial and tip the contents into the Pensieve, then add memory number six, if you please.'

Hermione hurried to comply, tipping the blue-white liquid from the sapphire vial into the Pensieve, following it with memory six.

The contents began to swirl, glimpses of the memory flashing in and out.

'Take a peep, my dear,' said Dumbledore's portrait. 'There is a conversation relevant to the outcome of this war within, and know that the subject of the memories carried out his instructions to the letter, whether he liked it or not.'

'I'll keep that in mind, sir.' Hermione wondered briefly what entering a memory felt like. _Hopefully not painful!!!_

She bent over the Pensieve and looked at the swirling strands. The single strand she had added to the potion seemed to have split and/or multiplied, creating several hair thin strings.

Taking a deep breath she touched a finger to the surface: it felt like she had done a mid-air summersault into icy, black water.

When she emerged from - whatever the black stuff was – and found herself in the Dungeons. In Snape's private lab, to be precise. How did she know this? Because he was standing there! She nearly lunged at him, ready to choke the life out of him. Then her brain kicked in; this was a memory, she couldn't change future events here.

So she just leant against the wall she had landed by and watched. After all, this seemingly useless memory of Snape stirring potions was relevant to the outcome of the war, right?

As she watched, Snape glided between the two cauldrons, one of which seemed to contain Wolfsbane and the other which contained Felix Felicis. He spun back to the Wolfsbane and chopped in some nasty looking acid green root, then back to the Felix with Red Rose petals and a drop of silvery goo.

A voice came from the door behind him, but he didn't stop, continuing to add ingredients.

'Severus? Is this a good time?' Dumbledore's voice echoed from the room (presumably Snape's quarters) which was on the other side of the door.

'I'll be with you a in a minute, Albus. Come through and make yourself comfortable.' Snape added some Belladona to the Wolfsbane, then some crushed Camamile to the Felix.

Dumbledore had come through the Floo and was watching Snape from the door.

'They're simmering now, Albus. I shan't have to do anything more 'till tomorrow morning,' Snape turned and removed the apron he had been wearing over his white shirt and black trousers. Her walked to the door and disapeared with Dumbledore. 'Shall I call for tea?'

Hermione dashed to the door determined not to miss anything, and into a medium sised sitting room; it was rather pleasant, with a blue carpeted floor, mahogany furniture with green uphulstry and white walls. There was some stone showing just above waist hight around the walls, and it was a rather nice light grey. There were some pictures of rolling countryside on the walls. Other than that it was simple. _Nice!_

Hermione grinned; Harry and Ron would have killed to see this place, but it would have rather shattered their idea that Snape's caurters were all black and dreary. Nice, calming quiet colours like this would have been way outa character in their opinion!

Anyway, back to the present…er, past!

Snape sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs, and Dumbledore sat on the couch. They sat in silence until tea arrived, and then they had to drink a whole cup plus eat a chocolate biscuit each before any talking was done. Said talking was done over the second cup of tea.

'So Albus, any particular reason for this visit?' Snape took a sip of tea.

'Why should there be, my boy?' Dumbledore asked, 'Is it not surficient that I enjoy your company, and wish to have tea with you?'

'Spill it Albus,' Snape sounded bored.

'I can't fool you, my boy.' Dumbledore drained his tea and set the cup down on its saucer. 'Something is bothering you, Severus. Will you not tell me what it is?'

'Nothing's 'bothering' me, Albus,' Snape spat, his demeanor changing rapidly. 'I don't know what makes you think something's wrong. I'm fine!'

'I don't fool you, Severus, and you most certainly don't fool me,' Dumbledore's eyes had lost their . 'Now, tell me what is wrong.'

Snape's shoulders seemed to sag hopelessly, and he dropped his head into his hands, 'Do you remember the meeting with Narcissa Malfoy that I told you about?'

'Certainly.'

'I didn't tell you everything.'

'Didn't you? Your narrative sounded very complete to me.'

'I didn't tell you that Cissy brought Bellatrix with her.'

'No, you didn't. Did Bellatrix say or do something that has hurt you? Given you cause to worry?'

'No.'

'In that case, what exactly didn't you tell me that is so important? It's not like you to leave information out.'

'You're not going to like this Albus. I was very stupid.'

'How so, my boy?'

'I agreed to do something, something I should have explored fully before taking up.'

'If this is about agreeing to help Draco, then I don't see why you are troubling yourself. We don't know what he has been ordred to do and it is almost certainly something mudane that Tom has been trying to do for years. Infiltrating Hogwarts, for example.'

'Oh, it's something that 'Tom's' been trying to do for years.'

'You know what it is, then.'

'I found out of Saturday.'

'Why din't you tell me after the Order meeting?'

'Because there was no point in telling you – is no point in telling you. Your knowledge of his task won't affect the fact that I swore an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy with Bellatrix Lestrange as our bonder. I was under the impression that Narcissa merely wanted me to guide and protect Draco. When I thought it was just about finished, a final claus was slipped in; if Draco failed or was incapable of completing the task, I was to complete it for him.'

Dumbledore looked quite calm, but there was no in his eyes, 'What is Draco's task?'

Snape's skin had lost any colour that it might have had, 'To kill you. I await your order to break the vow.'

Calm, resigned. Must be something to do with being a spy, Hermione though numbly. He had to be very brave, very steady to face his apparant death like that, in her opinion.

Dumbledore gazed at Snape for a few moments, lost in thought and stoking his beard, then nodded, 'Yes, that will do very well.'

Hermione noticed that he was talking to himself. Snape didn't.

'If I am to break the vow, would you rather it be sooner or later?' Snape ran his fingers back through his hair, pulling it off his face.

Dumbledore started, 'What? Whyever would you do that, Severus? No, that would never do.'

Snape looked vaguely anoyed, 'If I am not to break it, Headmaster, what do you propose I do? Go through with it? I hardly see a third option in this mess.'

'Severus, surely you know how long it will take the Order to train another spy, if one can be found?'

Snape sprang to his feet and started to pace, 'Headmaster, while I know I made an extremely foolish decision, I hardly think that bringing my failure even further into the light will do us any good. I am perfectly aware of how…inconveniant…my death will be to you all. I assure you that could I go back to that day, I would not take the vow, whatever the consequences with the Dark Lord might be.'

'I was not attempting to "bring your failure further into the light", Severus. You misunderstand my meaning; I fully intend for you to go through with the Vow's terms, and kill me. After all, losing you _would_ be very inconvenient.'

Snape blanched, and clung onto the back of the armchair as though he could barely stand up, 'Headmaster, please tell me that this is a rather warped joke.'

'I am quite serious, Severus.' Dumbledore stood and walked over to Snape. He put a hand on the younder man's shoulder. 'I am old Severus, and no matter how hard you try to save me, no matter the Potions you make to nulify the poison in my hand and the countercurses you create to stop the damage from spreading, we both know that it won't be long before I'm off on the next great adventure.'

'You, on the other hand are young and strong, a good fighter and a born leader -' Snape made a little disbelieving sound '- with a century or more of life before you, should you survive the war. You are respected -' Another little snort. 'Yes, Severus, you are very well respected within the Order and the school. Not to mention in the public sphere. You are ideally placed to succeed me as the leader of the Order.'

Snape was silent for a few minutes after Dumbledore finished, 'Might I remind you Albus, that if I am condemned for your murder my public influence will have very little to do with the matter at hand.'

'I am well aware of that. However, the Order will know that you killed me on my orders, and so will hopefully welcome you back into the fold. Also, most of my staff here are in the Order, so that isn't a problem.'

'And there I was thinking that you couldn't get any crazier, Albus!' Snape cried, jerking away from Dumbledore's grasp and dropping onto the sofa. 'If you tell the order outright, I'll be dead long before I can complete the vow. Moody and Potter will believe that I've brainewashed you, and lead everyone else with them. Heck, they already think I have!'

Snape pulled his legs up onto the couch beside him and leant on its arm.

'Albus, I refuse to let you play the Hero,' Snape sighed, and dropped his gaze from Dumbledore to his knee, which he suddenly seemed to fine very interesting. '_You_ are their leader, you old coot! I am _your_ spy, and all that bullshit about me being a born leader – well, we both know that _I _can't even keep my Slytherins in check! How do you think I'd cope with five hundred adults, most of whom are vastly older and more experienced than me? Add to that the fact that they'll hate me because _I'm_ alive and _you're_ not! Oh, and there's the fact that the Boy Who Lived hates my guts, and I hate his in return. How are you going to deal with that little complication, pray tell?'

Dumbledore sighed and sat down, 'A few well placed hints from me, some memories in a blood-locked case, a letter maybe, will sort out the hitch in telling the Order outright. As for Harry, he is a pack animal.'

There was a long, pregnant pause.

'Do you want to know what I think, Albus?'

'Yes my boy, I've always valued your opinion very highly.'

'I think that you're taking a great big gamble with all this, and I think your intire plan is going to go to pot.'

'Articulate in Anglosaxon as usual, Severus.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

'Want some more tea?'

'Please.'

'Sugar?'

'Please.'

'Cream?'

'Please.'

'Biscuits?'

'Please.'

'You know Albus, I think that this is the longest single word conversation we've had so far.'

The memory ended and a very shocked Hermione summersaulted back trough the icy darkness and intp Dumbledore's "Equipment room".

She looked up at the portrait frame, but the canvas was empty. Sighing, she removed the first memory with her wand and added the second.

After tipping it in, she waited for a few seconds to collect herself.

Dumbledore had ordered Snape to kill him. Snape had been perfectly willing to brake the vow. So far that was all she knew, but there was more.

Touching the surface of the memory, she summersaulted back in.

This time she was on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, looking on as Dumbledore and Snape walked towards her. They were obviously having a heated argument.

'…Albus, I can't do this…' Snape sounded weak, exhausted. And angry. 'I can't do it anymore!'

'Severus, I have full faith that when the time comes you _will_ be able to.' Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder. 'You are strong enough for this, I trust.'

Snape groaned and walked ahead. Hermione noticed that he was limping. 'Alright, we've established that I _can_ kill you. What about what I _want_? Maybe I don't _want_ to kill you, maybe I don't _want_ to do it anymore!'

'Severus…' Dumbledore looked slightly sad, and hurried to catch up with Snape. 'Severus, you owe me a life debt. I'm calling upon it now.'

Snape spun around and towered over Dumbledore. 'You bastard! You bloody bastard! How dare you? How can you call _that_ into play, Dumbledore?'

'I need to know that you will go through with my orders, Severus.'

'I'd rather die, thank you very much,' Snape spat out. Dumbledore sighed.

'Severus, I don't want to evoke the magic of our Vow, but I will if you refuse to do this of your own free will.'

'You bastard.'

'Severus, I hardly think that calling me names will help,' Dumbledore looked up at him. 'I won't evoke this magic if you give me your wand oath now. But if you don't…' He left the threat hanging, and Hermione looked at Snape. He was shaking and pale.

'Go to hell.' Spinning around, Snape ran back the way they had come. Towards Hogwarts, and people.

Dumbledore raised his wand spoke to Snape's retreating back, 'Severus Snape, I call upon your debt and consequent vow. I order you to kill me if Draco Malfoy looks to succeed in his task and/or upon my personal order. Should you attempt to resist, the vow will force you to comply.' There was a blast of magic, and Snape colapsed to his knees, a black shape against the red sunset.

Dumbledore walked back down the small hill to him, 'I am sorry, Severus.'

Snape looked up at him hatefully, and stood, 'Sorry? Oh, you're sorry, are you? You know I'll never do it! I'll kill myself before I do.'

'Severus…'

'Don't 'Severus' me, you piece of . If you've incorporated some anti-suicide ward, then I'll go to the Dark Lord. I'm sure he'll help. One little floor in my Occlumency Shields next time I go, and he'll know I'm a traitor. He'll grant me a quick death if I give him a little bit of information, though. Failing that, I'll get _Potter_ to do it. Practice and fun in one.'

'You may try anything you like Severus, but I think you'll find yourself temporarily imortal. Until the vow is complete, that is. You may try to kill yourself, get yourself killed or otherwise, but it won't work. You'll just end up spending most of your time in the Hospital Wing. And of course, blowing your cover.'

Snape smiled bitterly and said dryly: 'You _really_ did think of everything, didn't you?'

'I? No, that was ancient magic I evoked. It was there to be called upon long before even I was born.'

Snape nodded, and Hermione noticed for the first time that there were tears streaming down his face. Dumbledore sat down next to him in the fading sunset.

'I meant what I said, Severus. I am more sorry than you could ever imagine that it has come to this. When all is said and done, my boy, know that I will be watching you, and loving you.'

'Loving _me_? Why the hell would you love me, Albus?'

'Severus, you know very well that you're like a son to me.'

Hermione felt herself sucked back out, and this time she landed on her arse. She looked up. Dumbledore was back, and Hermione felt sickened as she looked at him: She didn't care for Snape, he was mean and unfair and nasty, but what Dumbledore had done – caring, loving, _Gryffindor_ Dumbledore - had been a work of the greatest cruelty.

'How could you do that to him?' Hermione felt herself standing and walking until she was nose to nose with the portrait. 'How could you, you cruel bastard?'

Hermione ignored the little voice and continued, 'He must have had the most remarkable self control, because if I was him I would have smashed your face to bits for even treatening to call on Blood Magic!' Hermione suddenly realised that she was crying and turned away.

'Don't you think that I regretted it every waking (and sleeping) moment, every time I saw him look away from me? And then finally when he readied himself on the tower, and looked at me with such hate and disgust? He was, as I said in the memory, like a son to me and I loved him as such. It broke what was left of my heart to force him to do such a thing. I saw much in my life Miss Granger: I saw death; sickness; unbelievable suffering. I killed, I tortured and was tortured, but no pain was so great as forcing his hand.'

'You…you really killed people? And _tortured_ them?' Hermione realised as soon as it was out of her mouth how stupid she sounded.

'Of cousre, Hermione,' said Dumbledore. 'I was, after all, a soldier in a war. Pray tell, how did you think I defeated Grindelwald, if not by killing him?'

'I – I don't know, sir, but you always seemed too…nice to have killed.'

'Many perfectly lovely people have done nasty things, Hermione, but it doesn't necessarily mean that they are evil. Looks can be deceiving, and dangerously so. Why, Tom Riddle was a nice boy to look upon, and to know if you didn't look too closely. He was an exemplary student with brilliant grades, a great leader when he was at school, but we both know what he has become.'

'But I assure you that my decision to force Severus into my murder was censured and despised my many.'

'Some people know, then? Who?'

'Bearing in mind that they weren't _supposed_ to know – Minerva - whom I told, but whose reaction was much the one you said you'd have had - I still have the scars to prove it…Professor Flitwick beat it out of me after Minerva hinted. Tonks guessed and told Remus.'

'I should have realised; they're the only ones aside from Mad Eye and Kingsley who haven't bolted.'

'Of course,' Dumbledore smiled slightly. 'But what good are they without a leader?'

'So - so you want me to lead them? Headmaster…I, I don't know…' Hermione was stammering; this was the greatest honour _ever_, the chance she had been waiting for to prove herself! The great statement saying that she wasn't a little girl anymore! She was going to lead the Order to victory! _Uh huh, oh yeah, uh huh, oh yeah, uh huh, oh yeah…_

'Miss Granger…Hermione,' Hermione was pulled from her joyous musings, and found herself smiling insanely in the Headmaster's Office.

'Yeah?!?!'

'Hermione, I don't mean for you to lead them,' Shattered. Broken! Hermione felt like crying, screaming. She should have known it was too good to be true! Dumbledore continued: 'I meant that your mission - if you'll have it – is to find Severus, and be his contact between the Death Eaters and the Order, or what's left of it.'

Hermione felt furious! She had been all set up to gallantly, if reluctantly, accept the leadership of the remaining Order members, and all she really got was to be Snape's contact. Some of her ire must have showed on her face, because Dumbledore hastened to pacify her. 'In time, Hermione my dear, you would make an excellent leader, but while you have knowledge and power, you lack the experience a good leader must have. I'm sure you see, my dear, that Severus, who has sixteen years of experience under his belt, is far better suited to that post. My dear, as you saw in the memories, even he had misgivings!'

'If you say so, sir.'

'Thank you for understanding, my dear. Now, if you go back out into my office, I'll give you his address.'

_TBC_

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Leave a review (even if it's a flame). Remember, I like con-crit. 

Niki


	3. Silly Bitch!

AN: Sorry it took so long. I've had loads of Homework.

Disclaimer: Come on, guys! I'm 13! Is JKR suddely 13 too? Uh uh!

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'_If you say so, sir.'_

'_Thank you for understanding, my dear. Now, if you go back out into my office, I'll give you his address.'_

Hermione trotted into the office and sat down in one of the chairs facing the Headmaster's desk. She was suddenly nervous.

Dumbledore reappeared a few seconds later and directed her to take a piece of parchment and ward it so that only she could read it. This done, he instructed her to write out 41, Spinners End, Milton, Manchester. He then gave her a second address: Greenwood House, between Woodborough and Calverton, Nottingham.

'I assume that he will be at Spinners End, as that it the best protected of the two residences, and with the ministry searching high and low for him, it would be safest. However, the wards on Greenwood may have be reinforced since I was last there, and since number 41 is such a dreary place, he may have relocated to the Wood, since it is much larger and more comfortable. I wish you luck, Hermione.'

She nodded, and stood to leave. This was turning out to be very climactic, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, she felt bone weary, disappointed and wished nothing more than to fall into a nice, soft bed like the one in Gryffindor tower.

'Goodbye, Hermione.'

'Goodbye, Headmaster.'

She was just about to open the door when the portrait called out to her: 'Oh, and Hermione, I must impress onto you the importance of your mission. If I were you I would find Severus as soon as I could. Once again, good luck.'

Hermione looked back at the eyes one last time and left. She knew an order when she saw one. There was to be no rest tonight. Tonight, tomorrow, and however long it took would be for finding Snape. Not sleeping, relaxing or otherwise.

Hermione slopped through the halls; her previously determined footsteps now tired and deliberately slow. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice reminded her that the sooner she found Snape, the sooner she could rest, but another voice was ranting about how little difference a few hours would make to the outcome of the mission.

_No! _Hermione told the second voice firmly. _I'll find him, get the information and then rest. After all, a few hours _could _make all the difference._

Now with a slightly more purposeful gait, she set off into Hogsmead. Her digital watch read four p.m. and when a disbelieving Hermione checked her new mobile, she discovered that her watch wasn't wrong.

_I was in that office for five hours!_

Quickening her pace, she arrived in Hogsmead ten minutes later and went to the Three Broomsticks.

It was quite full, Hermione decided, considering that Diagon Ally had been nearly empty when she went there to stock up a month ago.

She walked up to the bar and decided to order a shot of mulled mead. Just a little something, she assured herself, to steady her nerves and give her a boost. The rational little voice in her head, however, told her that a strong coffee would work better. She took no notice.

The small glass of mead later, and she was feeling slightly invigorated. She left the Three Broomsticks and went to Honeyduke's for a big bar of strong, dark chocolate. Her favourite.

Chocolate obtained, she once more summoned the Knight Bus, and instructed the conductor to take her to Calverton. The trip was the most boring, longest (well, maybe not longest) and most pointless ever. She knew the geography of the UK like the back of her hand, and they went right past Calverton twice before they actually stopped there. When they did, it was in the centre of the town, and it was getting dark.

Hermione stepped out into the cool dusk air, and set off for the Tourist Information Centre. It was closed, but there were several large laminated maps outside and which showed various footpaths, bridal paths, lanes and roads which led out. One particularly small footpath led to Woodborough, which was less than a mile away.

Locating the stile, she set off at a brisk pace. She was certain that the house would be guarded against Muggles seeing it, but she was no Muggle. Her eyes sought out each and every detail of the grassy meadow on one side, and the golf course on the other.

After five minutes walk the village of Woodborough came into sight in the half light. She walked all the way to where the path joined a backstreet, and turned. No house. Strange or what: Dumbledore had instructed her to write "between Woodborough and Calverton" on the piece of paper! Surely there couldn't be two places with the same two names in the same county? No way.

She walked a little way back down the footpath, and sat on a stone. This was all so annoying. Not getting to lead the Order, being Snape's contact, and now the house not appearing. Not funny.

Standing, she paced back down the path a little, and the pieces snapped into place. The house was under the Fidelius! She had to walk back and forth repeating the address. _Silly bitch, Granger!_

She walked quickly back and forth for about four minutes before feeling that tiny magic pull like she had felt when Grimmauld Place showed itself for the first time. Turing to the meadow, she saw it shimmer and change into wild, untidy grounds. A large house sprung up from the ground seconds later. Smiling, she walked towards what appeared to be the back gate and opened it.

Determined and (now) fatigue free, she dashed up the path to the house.

Upon reaching the front door – having gone round the house to the drive – she found that she couldn't be bothered to knock, so she just pulled the handle, in the hopes that the door wasn't locked. It wasn't. _Uh huh, oh yeah, uh huh, oh yeah!_

Quickly, Hermione shut of her psyche's victory dance and entered. There was not time for worrying now.

Whilst later, Hermione would look back and think that marching into the house of the Dark Lord's right-hand man, unarmed and yelling "Snape! Snape, are you in here?!" at the top of her lungs was one of the most stupid, incautious and reckless things she had ever done, right now it seemed a very logical course of action.

After all, it was a big house, which didn't have any outward signs of activity. How else was she to find the bloody man?

So, she continued through the hall to the stairs, still yelling.

She looked around her as she walked. It was a rather nice house, all in all. The halls colour scheme seemed to be navy blue and light green with silver edging. There was a coat room off to the side, and two big double doors at the end which she went straight on through. They led into a hall area, which seemed to be a ball room, and which was crammed full of expensively dressed people. They were talking loudly, and there was music playing in the background, but they all looked up when Hermione entered, and froze, horror struck, as she met the eyes of not less than eight known Death Eaters.

'Well, well,' purred a decidedly female voice. A very beautiful café au lait woman with chocolate brown hair came forward. 'I do believe that it's the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die's girlfriend.'

Hermione whimpered slightly as she felt a wand pressed into her back.

'Deborah, your frightening the little girl,' said another female voice. Just when Hermione had though that it couldn't get any worse, Bellatrix Lestrange slunk through the crowd and barged the woman called Deborah out of the way. 'Well, we'll have to see what Severus says about this, won't we Mudblood?'

A blonde woman who Hermione recognised as Narcissa Malfoy strutted back through the gaggle of men and women now pushing for a sight of the 'Mudblood' and vanished through a side door. Moments later she was back, with Snape in tow. Hermione slumped in relief.

But she looked up and met Snape's eyes. He gazed at her, and she gazed back, feeling his Legilimency probing her mind.

'Release her, Zambini,' he said lazily. Hermione felt the wand removed and the man behind her step away. 'She wasn't meant to be brought out for some time, and she certainly isn't ready, so I trust that we can keep this between ourselves, right Bellatrix?'

'So this is the surprise you planned for Him.' Bellatrix put her hand on Snape's shoulder. 'Nice one, Sev. I didn't think you had it in you.'

The woman who Hermione remembered was called Deborah snorted, 'Why would the master want this little chit? She's a Mudblood and ugly too. No good in the harem. No good for _breeding_.'

'She may not be good in the harem or as a brood-mare and yes, she's a Mudblood, but her school scores rival those of the Dark Lord himself, and she's exceptionally bright. But now, if you wouldn't mind, girls-' He flashed a charming smile at the three women '-I need to have a little chat with Miss Granger here about her manners.'

He grabbed Hermione roughly by the scruff of her neck and marched her from the ball room. By the time she had made it out her cheeks were burning with shame: Everyone sniggered as they went past, not at Snape having to drag her, but at the fact that she _was_ being dragged like a bloody _errant child_. It seemed like they took the longest possible root, but out of the party, and when they were out she was dragged past several ardently kissing couples who _also_ broke apart to watch her public humiliation.

Then she finally got a break as they ascended the stairs and took a right into a study. Snape released her, and sat down behind the mahogany desk, indicating for her to sit in the chair in front of the desk. She did, and her interrogation began.

'So, Granger,' he said in a deceptively calm voice, 'I'm assuming that you just ran into this house, knowing that I, a known Death Eater was in residence, yelling my name to all and sundry, am I right?' He didn't wait for her to answer: 'I always though you were the logical one, Granger. This act of stupidity was worthy of Potter and Weasley, but not _you_. I though that you were at least _slightly_ careful!'

Hermione bristled. Oh course he was right, perfectly so, but that didn't make her failure any easier to bear, 'Actually, I didn't _know_ you were "in residence".'

'That fact is irrelevant, Granger,' Snape examined his fingernails. 'But now you will have to deal with the consequences of your – rash – actions.'

'"Consequences"? What consequences?' Hermione tried not to sound worried. She could think of any number of repercussions coming from her actions, the least of which was her own death.

'You need not fear your own death, Granger,' Snape smirked. 'I saved you from that at least, but I fear you won't like the way I saved you much. However, the _Dark Mark_ of you arm should be a fitting reminder to be constantly vigilant, I think.'

'What?'

'Granger, surely you know what the Dark Mark is? What it symbolizes?'

'Yes, I know that. Why would I take it?'

'Let's say…self preservation. Oh, yes, and so I can continue to spy for what's left of the Order.'

'Yes, but how is it going to save _my_ life?'

'Because I had to pretend that you were the latest apprentice to be inducted into our ranks. In fact, you are to be a surprise for the Dark Lord, you and the potion that I had originally intended for that purpose.'

Everything fell into place then. The things he had said in the ball room. Hermione felt sick. Her stupidity was going to cost her everything. _Everything_. With a muffled groan she dropped her head into her hands, shaking uncontrollably.

'What can I say, Granger? _You_ made your bed and now you will lie in it. Unless, of course, you want Dumbledore's sacrifice to be in vain and both our lives forfeit.'

Hermione lifted her head and looked at the dark man. His eyes were black, just like she remembered them, same hooked nose, though his skin was far more tanned. But he looked younger, not older and more worn like she had imagined. Then it hit her.

'What happened to your hair?'

Snape snorted, 'Miss Granger, we are discussing a life and death matter and you ask me about my hair?'

Hermione was struck with the absurdity of the situation, but she continued. 'Yes.'

'Draco Malfoy in a fit of murderous, glory starved rage, "happened to my hair".'

Hermione barely suppressed a giggle, 'It looks good short.'

'Thank you. But there are matters of greater import than my new haircut to discuss. Are you going to make a hash out of Dumbledore's sacrifice and run, or are you going to rise to a challenge? As I recall, you like challenges.'

'May I have some time to think it over?'

'I'm afraid it's now or never, Granger.'

'You're a bastard!'

'And proud of it, though technically I can't be a bastard as I was conceived within wedlock.' He gave her a real, wolfish grin, and another ten years dropped away.

'I'll stay.' Two words, and in those two words she had determined her future, and later, she would realise, the outcome of the war. Right now, though, she knew nothing, and she felt sick with nerves. What if it was the wrong choice? What if she died? What if they were found out and both died? _Oh_ _Christ!_

Hermione wasn't a religious person by any means, bit she was seriously considering praying right now!

'I thought you'd say that, Granger.'

'It's not like I have any choice, is it? If I don't you'll die, and then we'll have no source of information, will we? Then, consequently we'll loose the war.'

He didn't answer; instead he stood up and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle.

'I believe it's time to meet your new colleagues, then, Granger.'

She snorted disbelievingly. She wanted to punch something, and Snape's face was looking awfully inviting.

Then there was a knock on the door. Snape opened it and revealed Draco Malfoy, who cowered before him.

'Sir, Aunt Bella wants to know where you are. She says your champagne's going flat.'

Suddenly, Snape – who might hit her back – didn't look so inviting. She cracked her knuckles at Malfoy, who obviously hadn't seen her before. He looked like he might wet himself.

Snape burst out laughing.

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AN: Leave me one of those lovely lil' things begining with "r", will ya?

Niki


	4. The Prince's Men

**AN:** Sorry guys, this took way longer than I intended! Anyway, I hope you like it just as much as I do, cuz I'm very proud of this chapter. I really am.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, why would I be writing fanfiction?

**Warnings:** BITCHENESS! If you don't like, don't read.

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_Suddenly, Snape – who might hit her back – didn't look so inviting. She cracked her knuckles at Malfoy, who obviously hadn't seen her before. He looked like he might wet himself._

_Snape burst out laughing. _

Hermione didn't punch Draco or Snape, though, because Bellatrix appeared. She scowled at Draco and muttered something about "bringing shame on the family" then turned to Snape.

'Severus, are you coming back to the party? Deborah's acting all superior and haughty and it's doing our heads in. I wouldn't have interrupted you, but she only…'

'You didn't interrupt anything, Bellatrix. We were just coming down.'

And they did, in a procession, with Snape in the lead, Bellatrix and Hermione walking abreast, and Draco bringing up the rear like a page boy.

Hermione had just got to wandering exactly what she had got herself into in that day's latest mental to-do list, but she found the fact that Malfoy appeared to be the lowest of the low very funny, in spite of the irritating little voice telling her that she was being nasty, and acting like a "proper Slytherin".

When they had descended the many staircases (Hermione was wandering if Snape had skipped some somehow on the way up) it was only a matter of navigating the countless hallways and corridors between them and the ballroom. Again, Hermione wandered if Snape had skipped some, because by the time she was back in the ballroom, she felt like she was on fire, and her hair was stuck to the back of her neck. _Christ, I bet I have BO. Again! Wonderful way to be introduced to the people I seem to be about to be inducted into!_

However, it seemed that she wouldn't be introduced BO and all, because Bellatrix turned to her, piercing acid green eyes flaming, and waved her wand in a complicated little twirly gesture. 'Never let me see you wearing those disgraceful clothes again, Mudblood. If I do I'll remove them and burn them on the spot, leaving you naked in the presence of some rather unsavoury men…and women,' she added disapprovingly, 'who would be more than happy to take advantage of a pretty little girl like you in such a situation.'

Hermione looked down at herself quickly, slightly shaken by Bellatrix's little speech, to find that her cut-offs and T-shirt had been transformed into a simple black knee-length halter-neck dress with a slit to mid thigh up the back.

Her hair was no longer bushy, either, it was actually curly. However, she was sure that her face was still flushed to some unpleasant shade of red from their fast descent through the house. Hermione weighted her options, and decided that she would take her chances with a flushed face, and began to follow Snape and co. into the ball room: she promptly stumbled, and fell flat on her face when her shoe seemed to topple over.

'Damn!'

'Problem, Granger?' Snape was infuriatingly calm and cool as she lay winded with a twisted bloody ankle on the carpet. The floor was very hard, in spite of the carpet. Her knees hurting could now be added to her list of woes.

Bellatrix extended her perfectly manicured hand from somewhere high above and hauled Hermione to her feet, where Hermione promptly toppled against her as her shoes tried to collapse again. She was now to the stage of her to-do list where she was wandering why her good, sensible trainers kept toppling her over. They didn't have heels…

Bellatrix was sniggering, so Hermione decided to be brave and looked down at her nice Lonsdale trainers, with their little pink edge pieces. They had changed radically! They were now black, with very pointed toes and a three or four (she wasn't sure) inch heel on the back.

'Not used to wearing heels, Granger?'

Hermione shook her head.

'As a senior Death Eater, I expect a verbal response.'

'No, I'm not "used" to wearing heels.'

'And I'd like your attitude gone, girl. You may address me as Madame Lestrange or ma'am only.'

'No, _ma'am_, I'm not used to walking in heels.'

'That's better, little girl. We may make a worthy Death Eater of you yet.'

With that, she left a bristling Hermione and headed into the ballroom after Snape's retreating back. The bastard hadn't bothered to intervene! Dick!

So, taking what was left of her shattered dignity and self respect, Hermione pulled together everything she knew about the way models walked on the catwalk. After a few test steps, she felt confident enough to enter the room without tripping.

Inside, Snape was waiting for her, surrounded by a gaggle of women, all of whom made Hermione look like Ugly Betty. This was something she did not ("not" spelt with a capital "N") like!

Now feeling just as miserable as she had been five minutes before, she slunk up to Bellatrix and stood slightly behind her. This was the woman who had killed Sirius, after all, and she should be wary around her, right? Hermione definitely though so!

But Bellatrix was the least of her worries, as her hopes of staying relatively unnoticed had just been flung out the window.

'Are you going to introduce us to the Mudblood, Severus, or are you going to be as impolite as usual?' queried a sneering woman with flaming tomato red hair and blue eyes.

'Well, Meddya, I was going to introduce you all to Miss. Granger, but since you were so rude and impatient, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.'

Meddya stared, mouth open like a fish, at Snape, for about a minute before she finally took the hint and spun on her heel.

'Now,' he turned to the other women, 'since you are all so nice and patient, patience shall be rewarded; ladies, this is my new apprentice and ex-student Hermione Jane Granger. I guarantee that she'll be a very worthy introduction to our ranks, when her time comes.'

The women looked at Hermione, who stared back, completely clueless, until Narcissa Malfoy mimed an introduction from behind Bellatrix, who smacked the blonde woman's arm. Hard.

'Yeah, um, hi, guys, it's lovely to meet you all, uh, Sir?' she looked at Snape, who was smirking condescendingly, and suddenly felt a burst of furious confidence. 'Sir, would you be so kind as to introduce me to all you charming friends. It hardly seems polite that they should know my name, but I not know theirs.'

'Of course, Miss Granger,' Snape was smirking, and judging by the looks of cool surprise on the women's faces, her confident, though polite, demand had been right on. 'This is Deborah Yaxley-' he indicated the café au late woman, 'Madame Lestrange and Madame Malfoy, you know already. Desdemona Avery-' he indicated a pleasant looking woman with honey brown hair and doe eyes, 'Elaine Tettley-' a tall, handsome faced but unremarkable woman, 'and Evanah Rosier-' a flaming redhead with violet eyes and red lipstick. 'The lady who was so impolite was Meddya Jenkins, but we shall pay no heed to her.'

'Now, I need to refill my champagne, so I'll leave you all to get acquainted.' He walked quickly into the crowd and vanished.

The women looked around a little, making sure he was gone, then turned to Hermione...

'So, Hermione,' simpered the Yaxley woman, 'what made you, a dedicated good girl, want to become a Death Eater? You always seemed like such a nice little girl, from our darling Severus' accounts, always sticking up for your…_kind_. What changed that, dear?'

Hermione decided that she really didn't like Deborah Yaxley right then and there. This was the one question she had been dreading, and that horrid, simpering woman had to ask it!

'To be honest, I don't really know. I believe it was a number of things, but the Order's cowardice (they're supposed to be Gryffindors!) was one of the main contributors. I want to be with a side that does something, and to be honest, I really don't care what that "something" is! Any more questions while I'm at it, ladies?' _Wow, Granger, where did which come from?_

The women seemed rather stunned. Bellatrix smirked. 'What did I say about attitude, Granger?'

'I don't know, _Lestrange_, what did you say about attitude? It must have been really unremarkable, because I really can't recall.' _Maybe that was a bad idea..._

'I said we need to cut the sass, missy. I expect you to remember that, or you'll be on the business end of my wand. Oh, and you forgot something else; it's _Madame Lestrange_.'

'But you have loads of attitude and you'd never give it up, or let anyone tell you to, so why should I give up my bitchiness and sass? You wouldn't, would you?' _Here I am, shooting my mouth off as usual..._

Bellatrix was temporarily silenced. Now for long, though, 'Don't do as I do, _Hermione_, do as I say.'

Hermione put on her most sassy, kiss my arse, bad girl smile, with extra sugar and whipped cream on top, 'Actually, _Bellatrix_, I think I'll do as _you do_. The time honoured saying 'do as you would be done by' seems rather appropriate here, don't you think?'

'Bravo, Miss Granger,' Snape clapped a couple of times. Hermione hadn't seen him come back, but she felt rather pleased that he'd seen her outsmart, or rather, out bitch the biggest bitch in the pack. 'She got you good and proper, Trixa. I should have warned you about the dangers of pissing her off before you tried to rile her though. My bad,' He turned to Hermione, 'Would you care for a glass of champagne, Hermione?'

'Please.'

Snape flashed a devilish smirk, and disappeared once again. Bellatrix was still fuming, and Hermione half expected to see smoke issuing from her nose and ears.

Instead, the dark woman gathered herself and smiled in a genuine fashion. 'Good work, girl. You'll survive this place, if you keep that up, I think.'

Bellatrix was had good sportsmanship, Hermione would give her that, 'Thank you, you weren't bad yourself, Bellatrix.'

Hermione gave the woman another extra sweet smile, and sashayed off to find Snape. She met the man halfway, and retrieved her glass of champagne from him. 'I think I might make it, Snape. They seem to like me.'

'Don't count your chikens before they hatch, Granger. You haven't seen the Dark Lord yet.'

'Pft, if I can survive Bellatrix, I can survive Voldemort. You shouldn't underestimate me.'

'I haven't. I've been estimating people of all different sorts all my life, _little_ girl. I have never underestimated a single one.'

'Good for you.'

'Bitch!'

'Thanks.'

'Dance with me?'

Hermione hadn't noticed that a band in the corner had started up.

'Alright, but you'd better not tread of my feet. If you do, things'll get nasty.'

'Look at me, Miss Granger. Do I really look like the sort of man who stands on his partner's feet?'

'No.'

'Didn't think so.'

'You can't call me arrogant. You're so bid headed I'm surprised you haven't broken your neck yet.'

'You sound like Lily.'

'As in Harry's mum?'

'Yes, that Lily.'

'How do I sound like her? She was kind and gentle and I'm a "bitch".'

'To her, and Narcissa, her rival and part time partner in crime, my friend Rodolphus and I were the most arrogant (well, second most if you add Potter, Black or both into the equation) bastards in the world.'

'That sounds like you. Who's "Rodolphus"?'

'He's Bellatrix's toy-boy, husband and lover. When he gets back from his extended vacation in Azkaban, that is.'

'That bastard! He tortured Neville's parents!'

'You realise, Granger, that we're talking like old friends?'

'Us? Friends? Yeah right!'

'We're going to have to be friends, of a sort, if this is going to work.'

'Dream on.'

'You asked for this to happen, Granger. None of it would have ever happened if you hadn't come barging in, shooting your big mouth off.'

'You bloody git! Dumbledore gave me virtually no information, excluding your addresses. This house is F-ing well massive, and it wasn't because I was shouting that I was discovered, it was because I opened the wrong door.'

Hermione felt like she was on fire now: the bad sort of fire. She was sure she was flushed and that her eyes were flaming, too.

'You look nearly as good as Bellatrix when you're angry, _Hermione_.'

'Is that a rather…warped compliment, _Severus_?'

He jerked her against him, 'Maybe.'

'Let. Me. Go.'

'Make me. I want to see what you can do.'

Hermione slapped him on the back, but he just laughed. 'You've gotta do better than that, Granger.'

Hermione drew her knee up into his groin viciously, and was rewarded by his startled and rather pained "oof!".

'Good enough?'

'No.'

He pulled her even closer, crushing her rather tenderer chest against his hard, muscular one.

'Painful?' she nodded weakly. This man was indestructible! 'Do something about it.'

Gathering all her strength, she drew back her arm and punched him squarely in the jaw. At least, she aimed to hit him there, but her fist slid and smacked into his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered everywhere.

Hermione stared in horror at what she had done to his face, 'Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Do you want me to fix that?' Hermione cringed as he turned flashing eyes on her.

'Nice one. I was wondering when you were going to do that.'

'You were wondering when I'd do that? Look at the state of you. God, I'm really, really sorry. Here, move your hand and let me fix that.'

'Don't bother. It's been broken so many times it doesn't fix properly anymore.'

'At least let me try? So I don't feel guilty,' Hermione knew she was pleading, but she truly did feel bad for breaking his nose!

'Fine!'

''K,' Hermione reached to where her wand should have been, in the back pocket of her jeans, but found no wand. 'Damn, I must have dropped it when my clothes changed! Argh!'

'Try your leg, Granger. Look on your right upper thigh.'

And sure enough, it was there, 'Why is it there?'

'You can't very well shove it in your pocket if you don't have one, can you?'

Hermione pulled her wand out of the magical holster, which was something like one of the leg holsters for pistols she had seen when her father went to buy a new rifle.

'OK, I can see your point. Here…' she tapped his nose once…twice…three times muttering "_Resertorcio_", feeling him wince slightly each time, and then watched with barely concealed satisfaction as his nose knitted itself back together, straighter, and shorter.

He reached up tentatively and ran a finger up his nose then back down, feeling the curve, or lack thereof.

'How did you do that?'

'Well, your nose had obviously been broken several times in the same place, so I just healed it with a strong heeling spell.'

'It never worked for me.'

'That's because Healing spells are meant to be performed by a second party, another person.'

'Thank you, Granger.'

'You're welcome, Snape

'Don't. Call. Me. That.'

'Then you don't call me "Granger".'

'What shall I call you then?'

'Hermione.'

'If we're going to work together, you should call me Severus.'

'How about we start this whole thing again, then, because I've been a pain in your arse for the last six years, and you've been a right bastard back. Shall we put all that behind us?'

He extended a hand, 'Hallo, my name is Severus Snape; it's a pleasure to meet you.'

Hermione giggled hopelessly as he took her hand and kissed (!) it, 'I'm Hermione Granger, and the pleasure's all mine, I assure you.'

'Would you like another glass of champagne, Hermione?'

'Yes please, Severus.'

He walked off, and Hermione took the opportunity to survey the ball room. Everyone was still dancing, or talking, or drinking, or doing unmentionable things in dark corners, completely unaware that the world's most unlikely truce had just been made.

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AN: Just a quicky cuz I've got a request to make. I've got loads of people who have this on alert, but only a few who review. As a special treat for moi, would you all hit the "review" button, even if you just say "good" or "bad".

Thanks guys!


	5. The Bitch Goes Into Training!

Disclaimer: I own anything you don't recognise. Nothing more, nothing less. OK?

AN: Sorry sorry and sorry again that this took so long. My computer broke, and so there was a massive delay in my writing and uploading this chapter. Any way, it's a long chapter and I hope you all like it. I'm proud of it's length, but I think I could have gone into more detail. Please tell me what you think. Feedback helps me meet the demands of my reader. Oh, and **I'VE MOVED THE TIME-SCALE FORWARDS TEN (10) YEARS FORWARDS FOR THE SAKE OF THE PLOT! IT IS NOW (IN THE STORY) 2007!!!** Bellatrix may seem a little bit OC too, and as for why she joined the DEs...you'll have to wait and see, won't you?

Anyway, read on...

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Hermione awoke in a strange bed, and sat up straight, looking around her frantically. The last thing she remembered was Snape…oh. Well, she knew where she was now, now that the bleary tiredness had worn off and she felt like crap. Actually, make that crap with a hangover. _I though we agreed that you weren't going to get drunk again?!?!_

Hermione whimpered pitifully, and flopped back down on her bed, rubbing her temples and moaning.

She continued the circular movements with her fingers until the pounding stabs of pain started to wear off, and were replaced with a dull ache around her eyes. The dull ache had just started to retreat when there were three loud "BANGS" on her door, each of which rattled its hinges. And returned her headache.

'Get up, Granger! You've already missed breakfast.'

As if on cue, Hermione's stomach rumbled, and she suddenly realised that she wasn't feeling sick from her hangover, but rather from hunger. She groaned.

'UP, or I'll come in there. You're already having no breakfast; don't make me make it no lunch either!'

BITCH, BITCH, BITCH, BITCH, BITCH!!! How dare Bellatrix threaten to take away her lunch?!?!

'Now, Bella, it's hardly fare on her to refuse her her breakfast: she's training today, and you know how unpleasant it is to train with an empty stomach.'

Bless whoever was standing up for her!

Hermione stood unsteadily and straightened her crumpled black dress then slid into the tight shoes, and hobbled to the door. She was about to open it when it burst open and Bellatrix thrust her scarlet nailed (Hermione thought 'clawed' was a better adjective, personally) hand through, dropped some workout shorts, trainers and a sports bra/crop-top thing, and withdrew. All this happened so fast that Hermione's vision blurred horribly and she bad to lean against the wall to avoid falling.

As her vision cleared and she became steady again, she bent stiffly and retrieved her new clothes, then walked over to the bamboo and paper screen in the corner. As she walked, she looked at the room. It was very Zen, and she rather liked it.

After she had slid into the cool, breathable outfit, she tied her hair back and looked at her reflection. She didn't think there was much point in showering, since she was going to have a workout. She gave her body a quick look over, and smirked in a pleased fashion when she saw her legs and stomach: the two things she was pleased with were that her only main vice was dark chocolate, and she was very capable of starving herself. This should be a treat, and no one could accuse her of being fat!

Smiling again, in spite of the fact that she was starving, she marched downstairs, miraculously only getting lost twice, and entered the dining room, where she found Bellatrix the bitch, Narcissa, Meddya (_moo!_), Draco, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zambini all sitting round the long dining table with a load of others and talking. They stopped instantly when they noticed her and she was truly shocked by the numbers of her ex-classmates, year mates, and upperclassmen she saw, many of whose names she didn't know, but she did know that many of them weren't pure-bloods in any sense of the word: half-blood at the best, most of them.

It was a comforting thought, though, in spite of the fact that they might well have voluntarily (or forcedly) singed up for their deaths, that she wasn't alone in this, that she wasn't the one (well, not non-pure-blood, because Snape was only a half-blood) 'Mudblood' in the place. It made her feel that the chances of her just being raped, killed, tortured or worse just for the sake of it were lessened, if only a little.

Meddya sneered, 'Well, if it isn't the little Mudblood bitch. I'm sorry, ladies, but the air in here is suddenly foul. I think I'll take a walk.'

Hermione felt stung by the woman's casual insults, and her eyes stung with angry tears, even though she had been expecting it.

'Ignore her,' said Pansy Parkinson quietly, 'she's just jealous because she was going to be Professor Snape's apprentice, but he can only have one, and it's you.'

Hermione nodded, and said quietly: 'Who do you have to kill to get a cup of black coffee and some toast around here?'

'That would be Wormtail.' Bellatrix truly was a masterpiece, Hermione thought; the woman could file her nails, eat breakfast and chat to her friends all at once. 'WORMTAIL!!!' On second thoughts, add shout to that list.

The short, portly man came scurrying in, and dashed to Bellatrix's side.

'Miss Granger would like a strong black coffee and toast with…?'

'Just plain, please.'

'…toast with scrambled eggs and plenty of butter

Hermione looked over at Bellatrix who smirked, 'You are entirely too thin, girl. If someone hits you, I am rather afraid that you would fall apart. Besides, we are warrior women, not supermodels. We are muscular and curvy and strong, not skinny little stick figures with pouty lips.'

At that moment Wormtail came scurrying back in with the food, which he set in front of Hermione along with a knife and fork. He then ran back out of the room casting fearful glances at Bellatrix as he went.

Hermione sat for some time staring at her food, and sipping her coffee, before the fork levitated, hit her over the head and then forced itself into her hand.

'Eat,' said Bellatrix, 'or I'll feed you like the two year old you're pretending to be. You look like a stick, and unless you want to become a member of the harem, stick thin isn't the dress code. Eat!'

Hermione, not willing to incur Bellatrix's anger, took a couple of bites of toast and egg, willing herself not to find it delicious. She failed: the eggs were some of the best she'd ever had, and the crisp, butter-dripping toast was lovely.

Bellatrix smiled in a satisfied way, 'Ata girl, Granger! Nice to eat something in the morning, isn't it?'

Hermione chose not to answer and went back to eating. In truth, it felt wonderful to eat a proper breakfast, not just coffee and plain toast, like she had every morning for the last three years (that was when she ate anything at all).

When she had finished Bellatrix went so far as to give her another small helping of delicious buttery eggs…_no, no, stop it! I want to stay thin! Thin, I tell you!!!_

But Bellatrix would have none of her protests and saw to it that she ate every single scrap on her plate, and the second helping saying: 'Christ Almighty! I knew Muggles had a thing about skinny women, but I never pegged you as one of _those_.'

'Neither did I, until I discovered how much more confident I was if I was thin.'

'Thin isn't everything, you know?' said Narcissa, 'Plenty of witches are gorgeous and curvy. Muggles have the wrong idea about lots of things.'

Bellatrix snorted, 'You've got that right. Now where is that immature prat who I have to call my superior? He's supposed to be up and about now, isn't he?'

'Severus is sleeping in, it being Sunday and all,' said Narcissa.

'Well, somebody go and wake him, then, because I'm not doing all the hard work with his apprentice myself. Wormtail, go and wake Severus now.'

'Yes, um, Bellatrix. I – ah, I tried, but he, um, he k-kicked me, fired some nasty s-sp-spells and put a pillow over his head. I r-really don't want him to start firing Unforgivables, if y-you know what I m-mean.'

'Argh, I can see I have to do everything around here, as always!' Bellatrix snapped, standing up and striding from the room yelling: 'Severus Snape, if you're not up by the time I get to your room, I'm going to crucio your balls off!' Narcissa sighed in a long suffering way, and followed her older sister. This left the children alone in the breakfast room, with nothing to do.

Draco smirked, 'C'mon, let's watch. It's always fun to see auntie Bella and uncle Sev going at it. They have the most spectacular arguments!' Pansy, Draco and Blaise stood and dashed from the room, Hermione right on their heels. The older initiates stayed behind at the table, either too scared, or too mature to follow.

Countless stair cases later, they reached Snape's room just in time to see Bellatrix smack the lump under the covers three times hard and grab Snape's feet, ready to pull him out of bed, since everything else seemed to have failed, judging by the burst pillow, half full water bucket plus the sopping duvet, and the broken alarm clock. But, sadly, Bellatrix was thwarted again; Snape's hands promptly shot out from under the pillow which had previously been held over his head by them and latched onto the sides of the headboard.

Bellatrix exerted her considerable strength, arm muscles bulging.

Snape kicked his legs and held on to the bed: he didn't seem to be finding fighting Bellatrix much of a challenge.

Bellatrix was now going red, as she tried to drag him out of the bed, with as much success as her previous attempts.

She turned to Draco, 'Since you're good for nothing else, Draco, make him to let go of the headboard!'

Draco walked timidly over to the bed and looked at Snape, who stared right back in a bored way. It was obvious that this was a well rehearsed scenario: in other words, a regular occurrence.

'Draco, if you do what Bellatrix says I'll kill you.'

Bellatrix let go of his legs in favour of her wand, which she poked him in the back with.

'Get up, or I'll make sure that your chances of having children are nil. UP!'

'No. Make me.'

Bellatrix yanked off the duvet and landed her hand with a painful sounding smack on Snape's backside, then marched out of the room with a purposeful look on her face.

'Severus, come on, or you'll not only miss watching Hermione train, but you will be missing some rather dear pieces of your anatomy. Besides, Bellatrix looked like she meant business, and you can't possibly still be thinking of going back to sleep; the bed's drenched!'

'Go away, Narcissa.'

'I don't think so.'

'What if I say please?'

'No. Up. Now.'

'Bitch.'

'Fine. I have the 'all clear' to get Wormtail to bring your _dear_ friend Tommy-boy up here then, I supose?'

'Wait, Wormtail is allowed in my room? Since when? Oh, it was him I fired those spells at, not Bellatrix? Ew!'

'Yes, it was. You scared the little dic…'

Narcissa didn't get to finish her sentence; Snape was up like a shot, and running from the room in his boxers and baggy T-shirt yelling: 'Disinfectant! I need disinfectant! Crud, I bet I caught some potentially fatal disease now. Disinfectant! I need some dis-in-bloody-fectant! Preferably one that kills all known jerms dead!'

They could still hear him yelling a full minute later.

'Well, ah, that got him out of bed,' Narcissa looked like she was barely containing her giggles as she did what Hermione would later find she was famous for: stating the obvious. Pansy had already lost control. Hermione, however, was completely at a loss! Why was Snape kicking up such of fuss over the fact that Wormtail had come into his room to wake him? Either the man was touched in the head, or she had missed something…

Alright, she had definitely missed something, but still…

Bellatrix appeared a moment later, and looked round the room at her giggling comrades. 'Wormtail isn't the most hygenic person, but I didn't know that Severus would have such a bad 'alergic' reaction.'

She sniggered, 'He's probably going to use several litres of soap in the shower.'

As if on cue, the shower turned on, 'Well, we should go out to the parcatice track. His royal highness should be down shortly, since I removed the hot water charm.' Bellatrix grinned.

'Bellatrix, you are quite horid!' Narcissa smiled. 'He'll freez his balls off!'

'So?'

'Bellatrix…'

'He deserves it! He should have got up when I told him to, and we both know that he was only being defiant. I swear Dumbledore must have spoiled him rotten!'

'Yes, he did, actually, Lestrange, but you went too far. My balls will never be the same again!'

Bellatrix turned and looked at Snape, who was standing with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was smirking, 'Prepared to die when we practice dueling later, Trixa?'

'Smug bastard! You know you're no match for me. You're the one who should be preparing to be flattened later, not I!'

'Me? I really wasn't aware that you were so sure of your own abilities, Bellatrix. Well, as the age old saing goes "pride comes before the fall".'

'If that's the case, shouldn't you be a little less arrogant too?'

'No, not really. I know my own strengths and weaknesses well.'

'Oh please, you are far too…'

Hermione (whose know-it-all, school/learning loving side had just come into play, having teamed up with "Miss Bicthy 2007") stepped in.

'Can you both just shut up? Snape, put some clothes on. Lestrange, keep you're abnormally large mouth shut. My training being completed sometime this millenium would be nice!'

'That's my girl, Granger,' Snape said, walking to the closet. 'Always eager to learn, but I fancy what we're going to teach you is a little harder than what you've learned so far.' He opened his wardrobe doors and removed a pair of trackies and a T-shirt, then walked over to the chest of drawers and removed a new pair of (_OMG!!!) _black silk boxers!

Hermione winced: knowing her ex-professor had pecks, a six-pack, and biceps to spare was one thing, but knowing he wore black silk boxers was quite another. She looked around at the othder occupants of the room. Bellatrix seemed completely unfazed by everything, Narcissa was filing her nails with her wand, Pansy was smirking knowingly at Hermione, as was Draco, whose eyes were flicking between her and Snape, who was now sliding into his trackies and T-shirt. Blaise just looked clueless.

Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and stood; she needed to be prepared for her meeting with Vol – the Dark Lord. It wouldn't do for her to be unable to cast the Cruciatus, or the Imperius or even Avada Kedavra in his presence. That, and the fact that so far this was all too easy; so far, there had been lots of talking, but very little work done. These people were pure evil for God's sake! Weren't they? They had to be! Didn't they? Where was all the turture and death? The horific cruelty that she was certain would be present? Oh, christ! Her head was now swimming with questions, too many questions. _Everything was going just peachy, Granger. Why did your inquisitive side have to kick in?_

Bellatrix interupted Hermione's thoughts, 'Let's go, then. We should have been down there an hour ago.'

More questions sprung into her head, now, as they walked out of the room and down the stairs. The people were too nice and understanding: Bellatrix should be the horid, Muggle story-book witch, shouldn't she? The sort of witch that burned children alive? Well, she wasn't. Sure, she was bitch, but so were most pure-blood women. And Narcissa Malfoy, she wasn't in character either: when they had met her with Draco in Diagon Alley, she had been exactly as Hermione imagined her. Foul and snobby, Lucius Malfoy's wife through and through. Now, though, she was a woman after Hermione's own heart, who stood up for people (well, she had stood up for Hermione, anyway). NO! No, it was all so confusing! They were supposed to be bad, bad people! Slytherins were bad!

The small party walked out the doors of the manor house and Snape took hold of Hermione's arm. She wondered what was going on, until she felt the squeez of disapparition. They appararated in front of an old, abandoned Muggle factory, a steel works, by the looks of it. They walked towards it, Hermione slightly ahead. Snape and Bellatrix fell into step, heads together as they talked. Hermione had a sudden desire to know what they were discussing in hushed tones. She cast an evesdropping spell and tuned in…

'…Bellatrix, you know what he'll do if he finds out? You'll be for the high jump then..'

'I really don't give a damn, Severus! He's losing his touch, and you know it. I was only ever loyal to him because he promised me…something I wanted, still want. Something I'd kill for…'

'Care to tell me what?'

'No.'

'Must be something bad.'

'Don't infer anything, Snape.'

'Fine.'

'Anyway, I'm certain that he can't give me…what I want, and he never could. God, Severus, why did you have to kill Dmbledore?'

'Because of a little vow, and Draco's _inability_, Bellatrix.'

'Don't you dare throw _that_ in my face, Snape…you were the one who agreed to it…'

'Because back then, Bellatrix, you would have killed me, or had me killed, if I refused.'

'You could have just said that you wouldn't do it unless you had the Dark Lord's permission. I couldn't have argued with that, and you know it!'

'You would have tried, though, and gone right back to him to tell him I wouldn't take a vow, endangering your sister's life in the same sentence. You'd have relished it when he summoned me, again, and spent a night torturing me, just to make sure!'

'Don't pretend to know me. I hate watching him torture people!'

'Only because you wish you were doing it!'

'Bastard! You have no idea how my mind works, no idea what I feel, so don't say you do!'

'Why not? You're the one who's having second thoughts – very later second thoughts, I might add – about being a Death Eater, not me. What makes you think I won't march right back to the Dark Lord and tell him that his darling, _faithful _Bellatrix doesn't like him anymore? I could do that, right now, and you couldn't stop me. It would gain me even more favour with him, and get rid of a powerful rival, wouldn't it?'

'You wouldn't…'

'I can, and I would.'

'You don't have the guts!'

'Try me.'

'Bloody impure scum. How dare you think you're better than me? Oh, I forgot; you think just because you're rich and talented you're better than everyone. I remember now…'

'Don't compare me to Sirius, Bellatrix. You know we were as different as fire and ice.'

'Yeah right!'

'Shut up. We're being watched…'

Hermione released the spell quickly, hoping her magic wasn't jerky enough to atract undue attention, and walked on swiftly. They were now inside the building, and she had even more to think about. _Damn…_

Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix Lestrange! The woman who had spent thirteen years in Azkaban for Voldemort, was thinking of renouncing him. A though struck Hermione: if Bellatrix, Voldemort's most loyal follower, was losing faith in him, how many other Death Eaters were? Or had already? It could be the key to winning the war! Hermione decided that once she was imersed in the ranks of the Dark Side, she would have to ascertain the loyalties, or rather disloyalties of Voldemorts most faithful.

With that thought in mind, she quickened her pace, appearing, to all eyes, to be her quiet, studious self, always eager to learn.

She walked through the big wrought iron doors and into the factory, which wasn't really a factory: it was a huge track, Olympic size, with magical exercise equipment and a swimming pool at one end, and a dueling arena taking up the area in the middle of the track.

'What do you think, Granger?' Bellatrix had come up behind her where she had stopped to admire the training facilities she would be using.

'Um, great, yeah. It certainly seemed you have eveything figured out.' However, she wasn't sure that even with her superior intellect she would be able to acomplish in three days, what she was supposed to have acomplished in several weeks, since Snape had "head-hunted" her, which appeared to have been set as the beginning of the summer hols. She winced as she noticed that their party was far from the only one present; three quarters (the other quarter being in Azkaban) of Voldemort's army seemed to be their, and they had all stopped what they were doing to stare.

'What do you think you're doing? Get back to work!' Snape's smooth, silky voice rang out in the large space, and all the inquisitive eyes snapped back to the controls of the machinery, or to their dueling partner. 'Hermione, I would like a word in the office.'

He offered Hermione his arm, which she accepted, and they began walking over to a door on the other side of the building. Bellatrix, made to follow, but Snape held up his hand to halt her.

Once they were inside the small room, which contained a desk, two chairs and a couple of lights, Snape spoke: 'There is one thing I want to to remember when we, you, are out there, Hermione. What do you suppose that thing is?'

Hermione stood silent, lost in though for a minute or so, then turned back to Snape; she could think of plenty of things, but none seemed right, 'I don't know, Severus.'

She was pleasently surprised that his name slid off her tongue so easily. He spoke quietly: 'The one thing you must remember, is that you have been training for a month or more, as far as they know. Therefore, you must act with confidence and skill, as you train and if and when you are asked to denonstrate some knowledge to your fellow aprentices, or to a Master-slash-Mistress such as myself of Bellatrix. I hope that, with your extensive knowledge of all subjecs, you can pull this off.'

Hermione smiled at the backward complement and in an atempt to lighten the mood, saluted, 'Yes Sir, you can count on me.'

'Good girl. Let's go.'

They walked out onto the track, where Bellatrix and Narcissa were waiting, looking around hautily at the struggling trainees as they trained, exercised and battled each other. Hermione felt rather sorry for them, in a detatched sort of way: they had probably been told that they either killed (having learned to kill) or were killed, resulting in this frezied waste of energy she was now watching.

She turned to Bellatrix, 'Why do they waste all that energy shouting, and jumping around? They should be putting it into their spells! Or saving it for later, when they might need it.'

'You think you could do better?' Bellatrix gave a wolfish grin, and looked over at Snape, who was talking to a tall, blonde man and a short, stocky one with a scragly beard, who leered at Hermione when their eyes met. 'Prove it.'

Hermione was jerked from her thoughts, 'What?'

Bellatrix smirked, 'If you think you're so good, then go into that dueling ring, and prove it…you know you want to.'

Hermione was slightly shocked, but couldn't see the harm in it, 'I'll ask Severus.'

Bellatrix grabbed her arm, 'I'll tell him where you went. Just go.'

'Thanks.' Hermione jogged away over to the arena and slid between the wires; it was rather like a boxing ring, only much bigger and she felt the wards to prevent spells escaping snap firmly into place once she was inside.

She didn't know how to start a duel, so she just fired some random harmless spells into the crowd of fighters. A couple hit their mark, but they were only stingers, so nothing changed. So, Hermione entered the fray…

She could see Draco, and Blaise and Pansy, all fighting like their lives depended on it in the centre, so she made for them. At least she knew them, and something of their skill.

'Hi Malfoy, Parkinson, Zambini,' God, she like at idiot using their last names, 'so how does this work, huh? How do you start duel in all this mess?'

'Use our first names,' Pansy smirked, 'and you don't start a duel: we're all against each other in this – block right, Blaise! – well, I have to help the boys, too, because they're idiots, but hey – arrrrgh! Draco, it's _Bella-tora_, not Bella-toe-ia; no, your wand movements are all wrong…just use something else, something you know how to use-' one of Draco's spells whistled over their heads, 'please, _do_ kill me while you're at it!' Draco seemed to miss her sarcasm completely, because he merely gave her a lopsided grin (it reminded eerily Hermione of Ron's) and turned back to his oponents.

'You seem to have my old job, Pansy!' Hermione smiled, and was rewarded with a grim smirk.

'I've had it for longer than you; since I was five!'

'Crap, that sounds bad.'

'Dreadful. Draco's the dumbest blond ever!' The last bit was directed at said blond.

'HEY!'

Hermione smiled again. Maybe Slytherin's weren't so cold after all…

A spell hit Hermione in the back and she doubled over, wincing as her hand came away covered in blood. She looked up and realised that in a split second she had been separated from her comrades. A wand poked into her back, and a curtain of blaming hair fell over her shoulder, cascading like blood over her bosom.

'Hello, Mudblood. What an unpleasent surprise.'

Hermione looked up into Meddya Jenkins' turquiose eyes; they reminded her of blue flame.

Hermione's brain fought to decide on an appropriate course of action, and she decided to placate Meddya, or at least try, 'Meddya, this isn't the way to solve whatever grievence I have caused you. Surely your anger is at Severus, not me…'

Meddya swung her fist back and punched Hermione in the temple; Hermione saw stars and fell forward, smacking her nose on the floor. Pain exploded, and her eyes watered horibly. 'Meddya…you don't want to do this!'

'Oh, but I do…my ex seems to have formed an attachment to you, and I really can't have little Mudbloods stealing his heart, now can I? I'm sure that you, Granger, as smart as you are, understand that.'

Hermione mentally sneered at the comment about her intelligence, and took a double take; Snape had a soft spot for her? No way. 'I don't know what you're talking about. Our relationship is professional; stundent-teacher, even. There is nothing even vaguely romantic between us!'

'I didn't say 'between you'; I said that _he_ seems to have formed an 'attachment' to _you_. I didn't say _you_ returned those feelings, now did I?' Meddya swung her fist again, and it connected with Hermione's jaw with a sickening crunch.

But the pain didn't come. Instead, anger exploded inside Hermione in that second, like a raging fire. It was a feeling she had never felt before, burning and clawing at her insides, begging to be released, and she did just that. One thought came into her head as she spun around and kicked Meddya in her ample bosom, with a reach of her leg that she had never guessed she could have achieved. Meddya crumpled, and the thought, _desire_, longing to cause Meddya pain became overwhelming. Lots and lots of pain…

Hermione aimed her wand without thinking, and screamed: '_CRUCIO_!'

The bolt of orange light struck and a gurgling scream of agony ripped from Meddya's throat as she writhed on the floor, unheeded by the other fighters in the ring. But Hermione didn't hold the curse for long; once she realised what she was doing, what she had done the anger vanished, and she released Meddya's twitching body from the curse. 'Oh crap. I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking…' but Meddya was on her feet again, and launching herself bodily at Hermione, her long, pointed red nails (apparaently they were a standard fashion statement around here) dragging over Hermione's sensitive skin and leaving bloody gouges in their wake.

Hermione's anger came back suddenly, and with full force. In fact, it was so intense that Hermione was momentarily blinded by it, and in that moment Meddya punched her twice in the abdomen, causing her to double over, whimpering in pain and gasping for breath. 'Bitch…'

Hermione drew a couple of shuddering, rasping breaths as Meddya prepared Herself to strike again, and dropped to the floor as Meddya's bloody fist missed her by inches.

Meddya grinned, thought a muscle in her jaw was jerking unpleasantly, 'That's me.'

Hermione swung at her, but Meddya was quick was ducked, catching Hermione in the groin with a short, hard kick. Hermione gasped, but kicked out, catching a rather smug looking Meddya in the temple, but before she could pull away, Meddya grabbed her ankle and tristed harsly, turning Hermione over in mid air and landing her flat on her stomach; there was another ominous CRACK, this time from Hermione's chest, and a burning pain flared in her breast bone. 'Argh!'

'Poor darling…does it hurt?' Meddya leaped on Hermione's back, landing solidly, and painfully in the centre. Another crack. Hermione had just got to the stage of wandering what the hell had happened to their wands when…

Meddya let out a cry of pain, and spun round, still standing on Hermion's back. Hermione twisted her head round to look at her rescuer just as a red nailed hand clawed down Meddya's cheek and throat, viciously. Blood began to drip.

The same red-nailed hand became a fist and crashed into Meddya's stomach, and then her face, sending her flying over Hermione's head and into the railing behind them. Hermione slumped forwards, suddenly boneless and very aware of her injuries.

A light hand settled on Hermione's shoulder, then gripped tightly and flipped her over. Hermione looked up at Bellatrix, who looked grim.

'If I had known she was up here, I would never have sent you up here. Crap…you look a mess!'

'_Thanks_.'

Hermione heard the movement behind them too late, and Meddya punched Bellatrix solidy in the cheek, sending her sprawling on the floor as she advanced.

Suddenly, a set of long, muscular arms wrapped around Meddya's middle and squeezed. Meddya stopped struggling instantly and slumped against Snape's chest. He looked murderous…

'Jenkins!'

'Hmmm, what's up gorgeous...?' she slid round in his grasp and slid up to him, in what she no doubt thought was a sensual way. He looked disgusted.

She seemed not to notice, though, because she began to kiss his neck. What happened next was rather brilliant, in Hermione's opinion: Snape flicked her round, kicked her in the backs of her knees, and knocked her to the floor. He bent over her, and talked in her ear, 'You seem to be under some delusion, Jenkins, that I enjoy having your slober plastered onto my neck. I can assure you that I don't. Now remove yourself from this arena, before I remove you _permenantly_.'

Hermione winced. Snape stood and released Meddya, who stood.

Meddya put on a hurt expression, 'Darling, you wouldn't do that. You like me!'

He was standing in front of her, towering over her, in the next second, 'Miss Jenkins, I have never liked you. Please vacate the premises imediately.'

'But Sev…'

He flicked his wand at her, and she squeaked, avoiding the red curse an inch, 'I am your General, and you will adress me as such, Jenkins.'

She looked defeated for a second, then perked up, 'Of course, General Snape.' She turned and sauntered off.

Hermione felt slightly sick as she watched the show the woman put on. She was also slightly jealous Meddya's walk.

A hand stretched down to Hermione from above, and she took it. Snape pulled her to her feet easily, and she stood leaning on him slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her, then righted herself.

Meanwhile, across the arena Bellatrix was halling herself to her feet, cursing Meddya under her breath. She staggered over to them and grabbed Snape to steady herself.

'Bloody f-ing bitch!'

'My sentiments exactly, Bella,' Snape looked down at Hermione. 'Any dammage?'

'Uh,' Hermione was suddenly very aware of pain all over her body, 'None permenant, as far as I know. Take you pick of the others.'

'Bellatrix?'

'Jaw-ache; nothing serious.'

'Good. Hermione, let's get you to the Healer.'

Hermione felt herself lifted off the ground, and into his strong arms. She felt them walking, then everything blacked out…

* * *

R

E

V

I

E

W

It only takes a second:)


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